the goosebumps start to raise
by Firaga Productions
Summary: The goosebumps start to raise the minute that my left hand meets your waist.. Or, 10 Intricacies of Partnership. [soma drabble collection]
1. Chapter 1

_the goosebumps start to raise  
__**firaga productions**_

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_Random ass little soma drabble thingies.  
I pretty much such at titles.  
No clue if/when I'll update this, though I've already got my favorite one mostly written and one more about halfway. So maybe.  
Soma is p'much my life you guys. Author's note is basically longer than the drabble.  
Title comes from Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood._

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i | _the toast announces its arrival with a loud popping sound, and she scoops up the two pieces, butters each liberally just as he likes them ..._

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**1\. morning routine**

"Good morning, Soul," she says as cheerfully as ever, waltzing into their shared kitchen and pouring herself a glass of milk. He manages a grunt from his seat at their little round table, and she has to stifle her giggle as she pops 2 pieces of toast into the toaster and leans against the counter.

He's always been useless in the mornings, isn't even aware of his own existence and consciousness until he's had a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and it's not a surprise that he's still in his black and grey plaid boxers and a ratty old t-shirt, hair still a matted mess from sleep the night before, staring blankly at the salt and pepper shakers they keep in the middle of the table. And Maka is a striking contrast, teeth brushed, hair combed and partially pulled back from her face, school uniform neatly pressed and backpack ready beside the front door. The toast announces its arrival with a loud popping sound, and she scoops up the two pieces, butters each liberally just as he likes them, pours 2 steaming mugs of coffee, and sets the toast and one mug in front of Soul with a soft smile before adding 2 more slices of bread to the toaster and sitting down across from her partner.

He blinks sleepily a few times before the smell of the coffee finally reaches him. He grunts again, reaches a hand forward, and raises the mug to his lips. He takes a long drink of the coffee, swallows, pauses, and immediately grimaces.

"Ugh, Maka!" he spits out, jumping out of his seat and yanking open the refrigerator door. "You know I hate black coffee!"

She smiles innocently at her partner. "Oh, but Soul, I thought you liked it! I'm so sorry.."  
"Piss off, Tiny Tits, you know all too well how I like my coffee."

He grumbles to himself as he fills the mug liberally with half-and-half and sugar, something about 'lousy meisters' and 'no-good-dirty-rotten tricksters' reaches the meister's ears, and she smiles even more widely as her weapon partner scrambles back into his seat, coffee finally doctored to perfection, before raising his eyes to glare darkly at her.

"You did that on purpose."  
"You're awake now, aren't you?"  
"Hn...asshole."

She grins at her partner cheekily as he angrily stuffs toast into his mouth, coffee mug in her hands, and her partner manages another glare in her direction but the effect is ruined by the toasted stuffed in his cheeks and the crumbs of bread stuck in on his unshaven chin. And he's right, she did it on purpose, but he'll forget this happened by tomorrow morning so he'll fall for it yet again, and the morning routine will continue as usual.

Maybe she'll buy bagels on her way home from class today. Lord knows they could use a break from the toast.


	2. Chapter 2

_the goosebumps start to raise  
_or, 10 intricacies of partnership  
_**firaga productions**_

.

_As Lady and I look out tonight on_  
_Desolation Row_  
_\- Bob Dylan_

Sometimes, he sneaks home late (like 3 am late) after a particularly grueling weapon-only mission, reaking of blood and sweat, drained of energy, holding a blood soaked rag to his bleeding forehead, silently begging his footsteps to _please oh god please don't wake Maka up_ \- only to find his meister sprawled out on the coach, wearing his favorite hoodie, Blair curled up on her back. She's only been asleep for maybe an hour, Blair informs him quietly as he strips his bloodstained clothes in preparation for a shower. Soul sighs with relief as the hot water washes the stains away, as Blair hops to her favorite perch on Maka's pillows, as Maka drools on the arm of the couch with one leg hanging over the top and both arms tucked under her belly for warmth. He redresses in sweatpants and a t-shirt, partly wishing for his favorite hoodie but partly admiring how cute his sleeping meister looks in it.

She's got her arms curled up under her chest and belly, but all she's wearing is his hoodie and a pair of shorts, and Soul can't decide if she's cute or sexy and he finally decides on both just before she stirs slightly and he realizes that she's probably pretty fuckin' cold. He ducks into his room, rips the comforter off his bed, makes his way to the couch and throws the blanket over her, pulling her leg off the couch edge to tuck it under the blanket, and settles next to her on the floor. He runs a hand across her soft ashen bangs, the rest of her hair cascading down her shoulders and back in waves, tangling in her eyelashes and sticking to her cheeks. She stopped wearing the pigtails the week after his Death Scythe status, part of him misses them but part of him also likes the way she looks when her hair is left to fly freely or braided down her back like she's taken to doing recently.

Her eyelashes flutter next to his hand, and she slowly opens her eyes before gasping in surprise, taking a few deep breaths of recovery, and relaxing back into her prior posistion.

" 'time is it?" she asks groggily.  
"4:17," he whispers in reply, resisting the temptation to lean his forehead against hers until he can feel her breaths on his lips.  
"You've got a cut on your head." She's suddenly all concern as she reaches cold fingertips to the side of his face, running her index finger down the length of the cut. He finally grabs her hand in his and squeezes it gently, looking her in the eye with a shy grin.

"It's fine, Maka, just a scratch," he soothes, and he can see it in her eyes that she's not convinced, but she settles down slightly, though not letting go of Soul's hand. He doesn't either, to be fair, and the thought makes him smile slightly.

"What?" she asks, cocking her head curiously. "What're you smiling about?"  
"Mmm.. Just thinkin'."

He lets go of her hand, instead taking a blonde curl and winding it around his fingers. She raises an eyebrow.

" 'bout what?"  
"You're just kind of cute sometimes, is all," he says, surprised at his own boldness. She averts her sleepy gaze, but he doesn't miss the small smile across her lips, and it's with this new burst of confidence that he ruffles her hair and kisses her forehead and whispers, "Go back to sleep, Maka."

He stands up to head to his own bed when a small hand reaches out for his own, tugging him back towards her.

"Stay," she says, and he's not sure if its the way her fingers feel gripping his own or if it's the way she can't keep her eyes open out of exhaustion, but either way he finds himself waking up the next morning, back knotted up from sleeping on the floor, a crick in his neck and hair sticking up in every possible direction, but she's also made her way to the floor, curled up beside him looking so damn adorable, so he wraps his arms around his meister and with another kiss to her forehead silently promises to never let go.


End file.
